Just so you know, I'm a bad mom

 have been listening to a lot of audilbe, mostly because I don’t have time to recreationally read. I fit it in where I can, mostly in the car or while I’m doing housework. I have consumed more books so far this year than I did in all of last year. I enjoyed reading when I was a kid, and then I got older, and it wasn’t “cool”. Now I prefer parting my hair to the side, and skinny jeans, I’m cool with being not cool. I checked out Kristina Kuzmic’s book, which is a great read for any parent. Audible then suggested a book by Tova Leigh, and her book F*cked at 40, which may or may not offend some people, but it is awesome to me. Se verbalizes some things that have been on my mind, but I dare not say for fear of being labeled a “selfish” or “bad mom”. 

After I went back to work, after Jake was born, I returned to my old tongue in cheek nick-name, “Mom”. Prior to hearing this 100+ times a day, it was cute, and when I got pregnant, positively adorable. But when you are an actual mother, you don’t want to be looked at like a mom to all of your co-workers. No, work is where you want to be able to have adult conversations, with adults. You want a break from being told “A butt” to inform you some one as filled their diaper (though still one of the cutest videos of my son). 

In Tova’s book, she talks about how she took a girls trip to Ibiza. I don’t see that happening (with or without covid). But I’ thinking of adopting more self-care. Most mornings, I drive Jake to the sitter, and I have thrown on leggings or jeans, haven’t touched my face, or hair, and I’ll usually put on a bra. That is typically the extent. So I want to adopt 10 min into my day to just get my face washed. I’m pretty sure her kids were older than my two, so this might be my limit, but who knows. 

I was sitting here thinking how my Dad was a single parent, and wondering how he did it, with no self-care, truth was he DID have self-care. Dad had his weekly bowling night, and when we were kids, he had Saturday nights, we spent them at my grandparent’s. When we got older, he started walking. Granted, that was also when he was getting out of the house to smoke, but he walked, like FAR. My dad also did the stay at home parent thing for years after mom passed ( we were super lucky for that), so he did need some time. My dad is my role model for a lot of things as far as parenting goes, but this is one item I have overlooked, and need to stop because I have met burn out more than once. 

It's weird when you admit to a lack of perfection in the mother department how you feel like a dart board for the barbs that are judgmental (let’s face it) moms. To them I say, this weekend I did 2 picnics, bird watching, garden planning, a little impromptu play date, painted a bird feeder and got in loads of cuddle time…bite me, I’m awesome! 

K, Luv Ya, Bye

Nancy 

5 AM

It's 5AM, and Brock refuses to go back to sleep. I gave him a change, a bottle, a snuggle, and sang to him. This is usually a formula that has me back in bed in about 20 min. Not today. Today I am on the sectional couch in the basement, under a blanket beside him as he nurses another bottle, because he devoured the first. I took him down here because in my mind what would make this worse, would be waking his brother. I  put the wiggles on and put him in his bouncer, so I can get him a bottle and use the bathroom in peace.

I turn the wiggles off and give him another bottle. He finishes that and I check his bum, something smells funky. Clean, must've been an SBD. I burp him again and place him in his swing, wiggles are back, and I hope to lay down on the couch. 

At some point I will go start the coffee maker, that my dear husband sets up for me every morning after he gets up at a ridiculous hour and has his. I love him, he sends me a sympathetic text in response to my snarky "Brock is awake and refuses to go back to sleep" followed closely by "I just heard Alice take my spot on the bed, that bitch".

For the love of God, don't tell me one day I'll miss this. Honestly, that's so belittling. When some one needs to vent about any other topic, people let them, people support them. But when a parent is venting about something their kids did, it's mocked and diminished when people tell them, "one day you'll miss these moments". People say this when they miss their children being around all the time, but are far enough gone that they forget the undesirable moments. IF (and in this moment it's a big IF) I miss this, it's mine to discover, not for others to dictate to me. And I will even go so far as to agree, one day I will miss cuddles, and him wanting to be with me. But right now, in this moment more than anything, I miss my bed. 

K, Luv Ya, Bye 

Nancy 

I'm Being Vulnerable

I sent this pic to two of my friends yesterday on Snap chat. It had two captions, One was all pretty lettering and had hearts and said “It can wait Mama”. The Second was in classic text and said “Uh, I think I waited too long”. I did it to make them laugh and got the reaction I was looking for and one even admitted, this was me yesterday. Today I was talking to my best friend about a visit when the Atlantic Bubble opens, and said, ok, I’ll clean my house. I rethought my comment, because we’ve been friends since we were twelve. I told her, I’ll move the pile of laundry so you have some place to sit. I got laughter and hearts. I find these reactions liberating. On one hand, if I have a messy house I’m a bad mom for letting it get that way. On the other if I had a spotless house, I’m judged because do I really spend enough time with my kids? OR I would just completely go nuts because no, I can’t do it all. It’s a double edged sword, and it’s super hard to not feel judged by this, but honestly if covid weren’t restricting us, I don’t think my friends would judge the fact that my bar in my kitchen is covered in clutter, and there is ketchup smeared on my table while we’d drink a coffee, 

I think the online mom judgers have made us all terrified to not be perfect, and the reality is, none of us are. I am lucky, I have authentic friends who don’t judge me, even though I am jaded by moms who do, and secretly scared my friends are doing the same. 

I kind of idolize women who would be viewed as bad moms. Not the ones who are legit bad and neglect or hurt their kids (there is a special place in hell for them). The ones who are brutally honest about their experiences. Like how they have had really hard times where they feel like their failing (Kristina Kuzmic), how pregnancy destroyed their bodies (Ally Wong) or how they sometimes want their kids to go away (I censored there and Tovah Leigh). They’ve been judged by people on their high horses, but have given comfort to moms who read, or hear their stories and have sat, nodding because they know EXACTLY what they’re saying. 

I aspire to be that unapologetically honest, but it is super scary. I find parents (not just moms, because dad have their own stuff) are afraid to let things that aren’t prefect be seen, because if you’re not perfect, you feel like you’re failing. And honestly who wants to fail? ESPECIALLY the little people you brought into the world. BUT I think the false persona might be doing just that. I could get into the complexity of how this could cause anxiety in them to strive for perfection. But instead I will call it what it is, lying. Jake gets a time out when he lies. I want my kids to be honest, and I don’t expect them to be perfect. 

So in one authentic step, here it is, full disclosure. I’m sitting in my basement, on my couch. There are coffee cups, and tims cups on the table next to me, plural. Same can be said for the table on the other side, but it’s bigger so it has an empty timbits box and this morning’s empty bottle on it too. My other couch has a few bowls on the arm, waiting to go upstairs. It also has 2 pillows, one that’s for this couch, a colouring Jake did, and a pad of construction paper. On the floor in front of me is 2 baskets of folded laundry and a tote of Jakes old clothes I organized the other night for Brock. I still have 2 totes from Christmas sitting by Jake’s table, and the Easter tote is there now too. Jake’s plate from Breakfast is on his table, and he has a cup on the bookself. I have two bags of clothes for donation by my tv standm abd my tv stand has a coffee cup on it. My other bookshelf has one of Jake’s cups too, and a box of clothes Brock has outgrown to go to my friend for her little guy. Then there is Jake’s play area…I’m not that strong 

K, Luv Ya, Bye 

Nancy